Ten years in the mortal realm take so long to pass; to the man standing alone in the mountain temple, even the flick of a finger took as long as a lifetime, with no end in sight. But time could also pass so quickly; in no time, suddenly the world could turn upside-down and everything within it could be thrown into disarray.
Life in Daze Temple was thus sometimes painfully quick, sometimes excruciatingly slow. After many years, Tongdeng could no longer remember how long he had spent in here lighting his lanterns; the only way he could tell the passing of time was by the occasional disaster or misfortune visited upon his own body––
That person fell ill, then recovered;
That person avoided a great tragedy;
That person's life ended;
Human lives were fickle and unpredictable; who could ever know how long one might live? Tongdeng had only assured the fortunes of his old friend's lives, and not the longevity. So although that person didn't always get to live a long life, even their death would be one without tragedy nor suffering –– just the silent and peaceful closing of eyes.
A life as an emperor; a life as a mayfly; a life as a beggar; a life as a young Buddhist novice...
A balance always had to be struck, of course, so that after that person had gotten to be an emperor, his subsequent lives had been short ones. In the centuries that had passed since his death, he'd already been reborn several times. In his previous life as a young novice, he'd lived some thirty-odd years, and the illness that was supposed to have killed him had been given to Tongdeng to bear instead. Still, Tongdeng could not prevent him from dying at that young age; what a shame.
But in this current life, there seemed to be far fewer misfortunes in his fate. It had been sixteen years already, but Tongdeng had only had to go through one major bout of illness –– everything else had been too minor even to mention.
Although it was a great thing that this life was a more fortuitous one, on the other hand, it also meant that there was far less of a connection between him and Tongdeng.
These sixteen years, Tongdeng had remained alone in Daze Temple and had almost frozen to stone. If it wasn't for the occasional visit from Xue Xian and Xuanmin, perhaps he would long have transcended to godhood.
These years, though, there was an extra person on the remote Mt. Jiangsong. Ever since the great battle on Heishi Shore some thirty years ago now, the Taipu at the Ministry of Ceremonies had learned of how significant Daze Temple was to the Great Priest. Within a few years, a new building cropped up on the mountain, its doors stamped with the imperial seal –– a place to house the mountain's newly-appointed guardian.
The guardian was an experienced mountain man. He was given a salary, and lived a simple life as a custodian of peace.
His job was not difficult: he only needed to patrol the mountain at set times and keep an eye on all passersby, making sure that no one got too close to Mt. Jiangsong. After all, the inhabitant of Daze Temple would have to bear someone's misfortune every once in a while, and if someone accidentally stumbled in, they might get hurt. And if there was a thunderstorm in the mountain, the guardian had to immediately report this to the Ministry officials, to prevent yet another fire.
Technically the guardian lived on the mountain too, but his patrons were usually at the foot of Mt. Jiangsong, and he never approached the stone steps of the temple, nor did he ever set foot within the temple itself. So the guardian and Tongdeng really had nothing to do with one another, and, after thirty years, Tongdeng had never even met him –– he only knew that he existed.
One spring, in the early morning before the mountain mist had the chance to dissipate, a young man carrying a grey cloth bundle came up the mountain. It was still early spring, and the air remained chilly from the winter. The forest air was humid and cold, but this youth had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a leanly muscular frame.
His skin was not pale –– clearly, he had grown up doing manual labor beneath the sun. His long hair was tied in a high ponytail with not a single strand out of place, and his shoulders were broad and strong; he looked the part of an energetic, enthusiastic young man.
He was the previous mountain guardian's son, here to take over the guardianship.
The youth stopped at the hut halfway up the mountain and pushed open the door. He took down his bundle and placed it on the bed in the corner, then scanned the room and quickly tidied it up. Then, he shut the door behind him as he went out to explore the forest.
He'd originally intended to go by the mountain stream and fetch some water, but as he passed the winding stone steps, he stopped.
He knew what these steps led to –– if he followed them up, he would soon reach the peak of the mountain, where the legendary haunted temple was located. For some reason, every time he heard someone whisper about the haunted temple, the youth would always feel an indescribable emotion in his heart.
He got the strange feeling that, long ago, he himself had looked out of a window past smaller mountain peaks to stare at the silent lanterns being lit up within that haunted, ghostly temple.
But that was impossible, for he'd grown up in the outskirts of the nearest county seat, and had never spent any time on another mountain. How could he have witnessed such a landscape? Still, for some reason, every time he thought of the haunted temple, that complex emotion would always well up in him.
Now, as he stood by the stone steps, that emotion surged within him again.
The youth only hesitated for an instant before stepping onto the stone and following the path up. Rumor had it that the haunted temple had been abandoned for centuries, and no one had ever visited –– it was creepy, and lonely. But as the youth neared the temple, he felt his surroundings become increasingly still and serene.
Any ordinary person would be terrified and want to turn back, but he did not feel any fear at all. He picked up his pace and bounded up toward the peak.
Daze Temple was less dilapidated than he'd expected, but also far lonelier than he'd expected.
Less dilapidated, because he could barely see the traces of fire on the walls of the front hall and the pagoda; even the front doors of the temple remained intact, though covered with frost. Far lonelier, because, in this season, the chill of the winter had not yet disappeared, and there had been recent snowfall; in town, people had quickly filled the snow-covered streets with footsteps and horse tracks, and the snow had quickly turned to slush, then melted. But here in the mountain temple, the ground was a pristine, perfect white sheet, and with it came the overwhelming sense of solitude.
The doors to the temple were ajar. The youth stood by the doorway and peered inside, though he could not see much. And he didn't know what got into him, but he suddenly reached out and pushed the temple doors open.
Creak––
The hinges emitted an ear-splitting screeching noise as the scene within the courtyard was revealed to the youth.
The youth was stunned as he stared, aghast, at a certain spot in the courtyard, and did not know what to say––
He could see that, on the white steps leading up to the pagoda in the center of the courtyard, there was the calm and silent silhouette of a man, tall and thin, wearing a pure white robe. As he stood amidst that stark palette of white, he looked overwhelmingly lonely.
"You..." the youth muttered. He came back to his senses and found that he had automatically walked into the courtyard and was now standing at the foot of the steps. He lifted his head to look at the white silhouette, frowning, and asked, "Who are you? Why are you inside the haunted temple?"
The monk in white froze in shock and gazed back at the youth with both comprehension and suspicion: "You can see me?" he asked.
The youth hesitated, then nodded.
This was Guimao year, a full seventeen years since the little novice had passed, and a full thirty-seven years since the battle of Heishi Shore, and countless, countless years since Tongdeng had died.
His life of tedium was ending; here, now, they were being reunited.
In the distant skies, a few veins of white flashed by, followed by loud, rumbling thunder. The first thunderstorm of the year was here. Soon, the mountains would be covered in vibrant spring flowers again...
Thousands of li away, the most famous restaurant in Ningyang County, Huizhou Prefecture was brimming with customers.
Xue Xian and Xuanmin, having just brought the spring rain to the land, stood by the doors to the restaurant, scanning the crowd inside before deciding to step in.
An hour ago, they were across the river, with Xue Xian busy summoning the rain. After he'd finished his task, he'd felt a bit peckish and had suddenly gotten a craving for Huizhou peach-fried pork*. Xuanmin had no reason nor desire to refuse him, so the two had flown all the way across the land to the Hall of Nine Savours.
As they entered the restaurant, Xue Xian said to Xuanmin, "Back then, when I first arrived in Ningyang County, all I wanted to eat was the specialty dishes from this restaurant. But I couldn't move, so I made the bookworm Jiang Shuning go buy me the food. It's been thirty years, but I wonder if the dishes still taste the same."
Xuanmin glanced at the restaurant's stall on the street selling breakfast items and said, "Yes. I remember this place."
"Huh? You've been to this restaurant before?" Xue Xian asked, stunned.
"That day when I found you at the Jiang compound, it was because the restaurant owner here had asked me to go," Xuanmin explained.
Xue Xian had lived for hundreds of thousands of years –– if he could remember every detail of every day, then his brain would long have exploded. Xue Xian only ever remembered certain interesting events or notable people –– for instance, he did remember being captured by Xuanmin in the Jiang compound, and could vaguely remember being surrounded by county officials on their way out, but he had long forgotten what other characters had been part of the story beforehand.
But now that Xuanmin was bringing it up, Xue Xian thought there was still an impression of it somewhere in his memory. "Maybe there was such a person," he said. "I don't remember."
The waiter at the Hall of Nine Savours was extremely friendly. As soon as he saw the two step into the full restaurant, he greeted them with a smile and told them that they could get their food to take away, or else, if they didn't mind, there were a couple of tables with less customers where they could share a table.
The bamboo building where Xue Xian and Xuanmin lived was all the way back across the river, at least a thousand li away. They had no intention of taking the food all that way to eat at home. So Xue Xian glanced over at Xuanmin to silently consult the clean freak's opinion, then waved his hand at the waiter and said, "No worries. We'll share a table."
"Great! Sorry about the inconvenience. My boss says, it's half-off for those willing to share a table." Smiling, the waiter brought the two to a nearby table.
Indeed, this table was not full –– in fact, there was only one occupant. With a clean and calm demeanor, this customer looked like a scholar, but he also wore the clothes of a rich family's son.
Maybe it was because Xue Xian couldn't remember very many of the scholars he'd come across, let alone those he actually got to know well. So every time he did see a scholar, it always reminded him of Jiang Shining.
Now, he turned to Xuanmin and said, "This guy looks so much like the bookworm."
Not again...
Xuanmin only pinched Xue Xian's chin, indicating for him to shut up and sit down.
Only one of the scholar's dishes had arrived, and as he saw them sit down, he flashed them a friendly smile and pointed at his clay-pot chicken, saying, "Sitting together is a happy encounter. You're welcome to share my food."
His smile really did look like Jiang Shining's. Xue Xian felt totally comfortable chatting with him.
And it seemed that there really was something special between them –– at the very least, they had the same taste in food. As the waiter brought dish after dish to the table, the two began to laugh, for they'd ordered the exact same dishes!
"This must be fate! I have to be honest –– when I first saw the two of you, I felt a hint of recognition," the scholar said cheerfully. "As though I'd run into old friends."
Xue Xian gasped and met eyes with Xuanmin, then turned back to the scholar, grinning. "How funny. We also thought that you looked like an old friend. Maybe we knew each other in our past lives."
......
Xue Xian's mood was buoyed by that meal. As they parted, he made sure to give the scholar three blank talismanic papers, telling him to contact them in case he ever needed help in the future.
Even when they returned to the bamboo building, Xue Xian was still smiling.
"Did you see his face?" he was saying to Xuanmin. "That's a good face –– he's going to live a long and fortuitous life."
Xuanmin listened as Xue Xian rambled on and on, only nodding and humming in agreement. Finally, he pinched his chin and sealed his lips with a kiss.
Seeing them kiss, the crow hightailed it out of there, flying as far away as it could, terrified that it might see something inappropriate again.
The two of them made love until midnight, then finally settled down and went to sleep.
As he dozed, visions flashed through Xuanmin's mind; he suddenly found himself back in the stone room at the bottom of the bamboo building again, with Xue Xian standing by his side, impossibly close to him, his eyes half-shut, saying, "You owe me more than you could ever imagine. Today, all I want from you is your blood. Will you give it to me?" Xue Xian's face was shrouded with a sense of evil, and his voice betrayed a profound hatred.
Xuanmin closed his eyes. He did not move away, and allowed Xue Xian to bring his mouth to the side of his neck and for his teeth to pierce his skin, for him to draw his blood.
When Xue Xian straightened up again, that wicked smirk of his was dripping with a stream of fresh blood, which made his pale face look tyrannical.
Xuanmin silently raised a hand to wipe the bloodstain from his chin, but another arm grabbed his in mid-air.
"Did you have the dream again?" a low voice askd him.
Xuanmin suddenly opened his eyes and saw the face of the man from his dreams looking down at him, though without any of the evil from before –– instead, there was a gentle smile on his face.
Xuanmin faltered, then realised that he had once again dreamt of the Heart Demons spell from all those years ago.
Ever since the battle of Heishi Shore, that dream had followed him everywhere, occasionally rearing it ugly head in his nightmares while he meditated, prayed, or slept –– some lingering, insurmountable fear.
But after more than thirty years, the Heart Demons gradually appeared less and less often, and in the past few years, he had only dreamt of them a handful of times. Perhaps after another year or two, he might forget it entirely. Some of the past still clung to him, but finally, he was beginning to walk out of those feelings of guilt and longing that had trapped him for so long.
Because the person most important to him was still there beside him; how much more fortunate could he get?
Xuanmin gazed up at Xue Xian for some time, then suddenly flipped them around so that he was on top, and kissed Xue Xian with a heavy passion.
As Xue Xian kissed him back, he complained, "We aren't going to be able to leave the house for another few days..."
Once more, with feeling.
At the end of another breathless conquest, Xue Xian draped himself lethargically across Xuanmin's chest. Absent-mindedly groping the monk's chin, he grumbled, "I think I'm discovering that all your seriousness is a façade. All I did was get excited about meeting someone new, and you punish me by making me beg for release..."
His tone was one of seduction –– although he was complaining, it was only teasing pillowtalk.
But for him to have taken thirty years to realise this simple fact about Xuanmin? What a genius.
Outside, the crow heard no more noise, so squirrelled out of its hiding place and flew to the windowsill, where it happened to have heard the tail end of Xue Xian's sentence. It only wished that it were blind and deaf, and flew into the room to spit on him.
Xue Xian suddenly no longer felt as tired. He pointed an accusing finger at the crow and shouted, "How dare you spit on me? Where did you even learn that from? Why don't you try again, I dare you. I'm excited to eat roast bird for dinner tonight."
The crow spat at him again.
Then immediately flew away for its dear life.
Xue Xian scowled.
Xuanmin sat with his back to the wall, watching the two of them bicker.
And as Xue Xian turned his head, he happened to catch sight of Xuanmin's lips curving, and then quickly straightening again.
Xue Xian gasped. "Did you just smile?"
Xuanmin's face was set in stone. "No."
Xue Xian stared at him suspiciously. "I saw it!"
"No you didn't," Xuanmin said.
"... Do it again?"
Xuanmin silently rearranged Xue Xian's robes and got out of bed. He tidied up the room, then turned back to Xue Xian and asked, "Do you want to go to Daze Temple?"
"Fuck no! Not unless you smile for me." Xue Xian leapt off the bed and flexed his arms and legs. In the meantime, the poor crow came flying back into the room.
This time, it brought a messenger dove with it. The messenger dove carried a letter from the Ministry of Ceremonies.
Xuanmin unrolled the sheet of paper and skimmed the note.
Xue Xian shuffled over and asked, "Is something wrong?"
Xuanmin had spent the past few years gradually reducing the Great Priest's influence in the imperial court –– after all, for the entire land to depend on one person was not appropriate. Besides, it wasn't as though, without the Great Priest, the land would be in danger.
And the letters from the Ministry no longer came as frequently. This time, it was only because the Taipu had calculated the next's year's fortunes, and was reporting the results to him.
Xuanmin folded up the letter and told Xue Xian, "Nothing. It's going to be another auspicious year."
That was all one could ask for, in the bustling red dust of the world: the ability to repay one's debts, return one's favors, keep one's promises, and nurture one's love.
The wind would keep blowing and the rain would keep falling; peace across the rivers and mountains.
No regrets.
---
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COPPER COINS
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